


Out of My System

by CrashDevil (cjdevlin19)



Series: Crash Into Me [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Demon Dean Winchester, Gen, Mentions of self-harm, Pining, Self-Esteem Issues, Slight Suicidal Ideation, mentions of eating disorders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 00:06:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19734388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjdevlin19/pseuds/CrashDevil
Summary: Crash’s POV- Sam gives Cassie a heads up that Dean died and his body disappeared from the bunker. Of course when Dean shows up as a demon, he can’t have anything good to say.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~6 AM, as I was working in the liquor store before it opened, an unknown number called me. I didn’t answer, let it go to voice but I checked the message immediately. “Crash,” Dean’s voice and it sounded…off. He said my name…singsong, like a villain in a movie as they’re slowly edging toward the hero’s hiding spot. “Now I know you don’t answer a call if you don’t know the number so put this down as one of mine. I’m gonna call you again in a couple minutes and you better pick up this time, baby girl.”‘Baby Girl’ was a new one and it made me feel…I’m not even sure, actually. I liked it but…it wasn’t Dean and even if it were, it would’ve been more of his ‘no big deal’ flirting. ‘Flirty’ is Dean’s default.I set the phone down. Should I call Sam? Sam said to call if I see Dean and this was a phone call.The phone rang again before I could make up my mind. Same number. I answered on the second ring. “Hello?”“Good morning, sweetheart. Been a while.”“Well, you died, so…who am I really talking to?”





	Out of My System

**Story Warnings** : pining, angst, self-esteem issues, mentions of cheating, heavy drinking, mentions of self-harm, eating disorders and a slight suicidal ideation **_THIS IS SUPER ANGSTY_**

* * *

I’ve always had a problem of unrequited love. My first major crush was a boy named Cameron in first grade. He hated me. I was too much of a tomboy, too fat, too poor, too… _something_. He had a million reasons why I wasn’t good enough for him, but I thought the world of him. Marcus, Vincent, Chase, Kimmy, Britani, Kyle… there’s a dozen people I could name that I would have given my left arm for a shot with. I thought I was done with that feeling when I married Mike, but leave it to the Fates to put Dean Winchester in my life.

Dean is… unattainable. Even if I were the sort of woman who gets a man like that, and I have never been the sort of woman who gets a man like _that_ , he would never want me. Even if I were thin and buxom and tall, Dean Winchester would never want me. I’m too… damaged. Between the bulimia and the depression and the anxiety and the drinking and the thick razor blade scars I put on my own skin, who would ever give me a second look? Add in fat and ugly and married with a kid? Forget it.

Dean Winchester is unattainable, just like every person I’ve ever wanted except Mike. Mike, a ‘Cave Quid Optes’ horror story if ever there was one. I put my everything into Mike and all I got in return was Aria. Gods, and I wish I could say that was worth the pain because I love her so much, but… I can’t say I wouldn’t change it if I were given the option to avoid the heartache.

That night in Vegas showed me how misguided I was in my hope that Dean might be more than a friend. I’m not Elphaba. I’m… Jabba the Hutt. Dean is a hero. I’m a humpback… beached and dying in a hopeless situation that he’s trying to save me from because that’s what he does. He helps the hopeless. He’s only befriended me because I’m so fucking pathetic.

That’s why I stepped back. I stopped texting him, stopped sending him emails and calling him on my downtime. As much as I miss our talks, I don’t want to bug him. This whole ‘relationship’ was shown to be completely one-sided. I’m sure I’m the one who called him most of the time, the one who sent the first texts almost every time. I’ve been a burden and he’s just been shouldering me like Atlas. Because that’s what heroes do.

When an unknown number popped up on my phone, I didn’t answer it. I don’t answer if I don’t know the number. They left a voicemail, though, and it wasn’t a tax scam or someone trying to sell me a warranty on the piece of shit Saturn Mike insisted we buy, it was Sam. “ _Cassie, it’s Sam Winchester. I need you to call me back as soon as you get this message. It’s really fucking important._ ”

I dialed him back immediately. “Cassie?”

“Hi, Sam. Everything okay?”

“No, have you heard from Dean?” Sam asked, impatiently.

“No. Not since… Chicago? Couple months ago.”

Sam sighed. “Look, I don’t know how to say this but… Dean died.”

“What?!” I squeaked, tears popping up in my eyes.

“Yeah. He… He got in a fight with this angel named Metatron and he didn’t survive and… I brought him home. I was gonna set up a pyre but… his body disappeared and…”

“What do you mean, it disappeared?!”

“I think his body might have been possessed… somehow.”

“Doesn’t he have a tattoo for that?!”

“Yeah but they might have burned it off. I don’t know what happened but his body is gone and I think the king of hell has a demon in him. So if Dean shows up… it’s not Dean. You should line your doors and windows with salt, too, just to be safe.”

“Okay… tha-thanks for the heads-up, Sam.”

“Yeah. Call me if you see him.”

I started to respond that I would, but he hung up. I lined the door to the apartment with salt, then the windows and I convinced Mike and the baby not to mess with the lines and… nothing. For weeks, I was on edge and there was no sign of Dean… until my phone rang while I was at work.

6 AM, as I was working alone to stock in the liquor store before it opened, an unknown number called me. I didn’t answer, of course, let it ring into my voicemail but I checked the message immediately. “ _Crash_.” Dean’s voice and it sounded… off. He said my name like… singsong, like a villain in a movie as they’re slowly edging toward the hero’s hiding spot. “ _Now I know you don’t answer a call if you don’t know the number so put this one down as one of mine. I’m gonna call you again in a couple minutes and you better pick up this time, baby girl._ ”

‘Baby Girl’ was a new one and it made me feel… I’m not even sure, actually. I liked it but… it wasn’t Dean and even if it were, it would’ve been more of his ‘no big deal’ flirting. ‘Flirty’ is Dean’s default.

I set the phone down and stared at it. Should I call Sam? Sam said to call if I see Dean and this was a phone call. The phone rang again before I could make up my mind. Same number. I answered on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Good morning, sweetheart. Been a while.”

“Well, you died, so… who am I _really_ talking to?”

He chuckled and it gave me shivers. “Don’t worry, kid. I’m me. Still got my anti-possession tattoo and everything. Wanna see?”

“Dean, I’m at work, so unless this is important I-”

“You hang up on me, you’re gonna regret it.” His voice was a cold warning and I couldn’t hang up after that. “Good girl. Now, I’m assuming Sam’s called you? That’s how you know Metatron ran an angel blade through me?”

“Yes. He said you disappeared, that there might be a demon in you. I’m supposed to call him if I see you.”

“Then I guess I better make sure you don’t see me, huh? I’ll just watch _you_ , how ‘bout that?” The thought that he was watching me sent chills down my spine. I looked around the small liquor store. I could see every corner from where I stood. He wasn’t locked in with me, so if he could see me, it was from the windows at the front of the shop. I ran for my purse under the counter, phone still to my ear. “What’cha got in the purse, Crash? Holy water? No, that’s salt, isn’t it?”

I put the phone on speaker before putting it on the counter and pulling the box of sea salt open. “Yes, it’s salt. So…just…”

“How long do you think a salt line is gonna hold me back, huh? Salt stings like a bitch but we both know I can take the pain. Everything I’ve been through, things you don’t even know about, you think a line of the white stuff’s gonna hold me back?”

I poured the lines, anyway. “What do you even want with me, man? I’m just-”

“I’m here to get you out of my system. I’ve had a lot of fun over the last few weeks… lots of drinking, lots of sex with a lot of different women, but I keep thinking about Vegas… you know, how _different_ that coulda gone.”

“Wh-what about Vegas? Vegas was-”

“Vegas shoulda ended with your cankles on my shoulders and my cock buried in your fat pussy.” My eyes went wide and I straightened instinctively. I was a mix of upset at being called fat and tingly at the imagery he put in my head.

“I-I don’t-” I cleared my throat and walked back to the counter, setting the box of salt down and picking up the phone. “I don’t have cankles… and that… that scenario… you _rejected_ me, Dean. You don’t want me. You barely wanted my friendship.”

“I rejected you because you’re married, sweetheart, and I didn’t want you to regret it when you sobered up the next morning. Today I just don’t give a fuck about what you regret the next day. I’m planning to give you the ride of your life, fuck you into a big fuckin’ pile of jelly and then slit your throat with the First Blade.” I reached over and grabbed the store phone, dialing Sam’s phone number from memory. “What are you doing, Crash? Who’re you calling?”

“I’m not sure how long it’ll take Sam to get here. I also don’t know how long it’ll take you to get into this building. I’m willing to bet on Sam getting here first, though.”

“You’re gonna bet your life on my brother, huh?”

“I’d always put my money on a Winchester. I don’t know what you are right now, but you aren’t Dean.” He was suddenly at the doors, fist slamming against the glass. I jumped and set the cell phone on the counter.

“Hang up the phone, bitch,” he demanded. I shook my head, putting the store phone to my ear.

“Cassie? What’s happening?” Sam asked, worry carrying through the phone.

“Dean’s here. I’m looking right at him!”

“Stay calm. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Hurry, Sam,” I begged.

Dean rolled his eyes and leaned against the glass, focusing on me. “You just ruined my plans, Mama Cass.” I blinked back tears. He’s not the first to make the comparison between me and Cass Elliot. “You know why I call you ‘Crash’? Because the name ‘Cassie’ reminds me of Cassie Robinson. Soft caramel-colored skin, perfect breasts and a _tight_ little body. I just can’t reconcile _that_ memory with _this_ imagery.”

He gestured at me through the glass. “Ghost-pale skin, frizzy dyed hair with dirt roots, and that body? What, gotta be up close to three-hundred again, right? You know, what I was offering you, you’re never gonna get an opportunity like that again. Spend the rest of your sad little life drinking or cutting away your pain, bowing to a sociopath who puts his pencil dick in any whore who smiles at him. I would’ve sent you out on a high, at least.” He stepped back from the glass and shrugged. “Your loss, sweetheart.”

I broke down in tears as soon as he was away. By the time Sam showed up, Dean was long gone. It was three weeks before I got an email explaining what had happened. It _was_ Dean. He’d died and become a demon, but it was him. Which meant that every word he said was his own. He apologized, of course. He told me he didn’t mean what he said, that he was just trying to hurt me, that it was what he wanted as a demon, he just wanted to hurt me. Somehow that didn’t make me feel any better about it. Not that I told Dean how much it still hurt.

I put a smile on when I spoke to him on the phone, I made sure not to show my depression in my words when I returned emails or texts. I hid.

Mike grew more distant from me, I grew more distant from Dean, I felt like I was being crushed by an ever-growing mountain of bad feelings, but I hid. I drank, I hurt myself, I ate too much and slept too much and I hid… because Dean Winchester, the unattainable Dean Winchester, was right. I should have traded my sad little life for a night of happiness with him. There’s no other way I’m going out on a high note. 


End file.
